So, apparently there's no point to the Universe as the only ducks I saw were a million fucking miles in the sky. Out of range. Out of sight. So very windy that the trees were all bent sideways about ten feet up. Painful. On the plus side I had a little island all to my self, well, Ghost was there too. I did have to carry dekes and bag and gun 100 yards through the water. Then I went back for the dog. And vice versa on the way out. I'd do it again, of course, but just with some shootable ducks.
Peace out, bitches!
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11 comments:
did you take any pictures?
Wasn't worth it. Our little island was overgrown and there was nowhere to sit and we didn't shoot anything so...
dad found quail in napa and sonoma near the vineyards!
MAYBE MOOSE
by John Updike
Boys are playing ostrich-ball around a telephone pole with a flaming hoop bolted to it. Legs, shouts. The scrape and snap of tire irons on loose alley pebbles seems to catapult their voices high into the moist March air blue above the wires. Moose Angstrom, coming up the alley in a tutu and viking helmet, stops and watches, though he's thirty-five and jangled on caffeine. So jangled, he seems an unlikely moose, but the breadth of brown face, the laser-sight of his chemically enhanced irises, and a nervous flutter under his brief nose as he stabs a cigarette into his mouth in no way explain the nickname, which was given to him when he too was a boy. He stands there thinking, the kids keep coming, they keep crowding you up.
MAYBE MOOSE
by Saul Bellow
Still, for three months Moose had delayed his trip to Outer Patagonia. He wanted to start out with the blessings of his pets, but they were never given. He quarreled with his parakeet and his llama. And then, when he was best aware of the risks and knew a hundred reasons against going and had made himself sick with dog whispering, he left home. This was typical of Moose. After much thought and hesitation and debate he invariably took the course he had rejected innumerable times. Ten such decisions made up the history of his life. He had decided that it would be a bad mistake to go to Bollywood, and then he went. He had made up his mind not to marry his favorite mannequin, but ran off and got married. He had resolved not to invest money with Fly-By-Night Equities, and then had given them a check.
MAYBE MOOSE
by Ernest Hemingway
If people bring so much courage to this world the world has to turn them into moose to break them, so of course it turns them into moose. The world turns every one and afterward many are strong at the antlered places. But those that will not turn into moose it turns into chipmunks. It turns into chipmunks the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will turn you into a chipmunk too but there will be no special hurry.
MAYBE MOOSE
by Jane Austen
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a wild moose in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wall-mounted trophy stand.
However little known the feelings or views of such a moose may be on his first entering moose season, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding hunters, that he is considered the rightful property of some one or other of their taxidermists.
MAYBE MOOSE
By F. Scott Fitzgerald
In my younger and more delusional years the talking moose who lived under my bed gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since.
"Whenever you feel like criticizing any one," he told me, "just remember that all the people in this world haven't had the vegetables that you've had."
He didn't say any more, but we've always been unusually communicative in a reserved way, and I understood that he meant a great deal more than that. In consequence, I'm inclined to eat all kinds of snacks and appetizers, a habit that has opened up many curious natures to me and also made me the victim of not a few veteran bores. The abnormal chef is quick to detect and attach himself to this quality when it appears in a normal person, and so it came about that in college I was unjustly accused of being a gourmet, because I was privy to the secret meals of wild, unknown men.
Mus
Amin, sadaqallhu athim!
Yay, Moose written by anyone!
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